


Portrait of a Young Man

by TheNarcolepticOne



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Domestic, Drinking, Gen, Lalafell (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te (Final Fantasy XIV), Original Character(s), Orphanage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:08:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23852086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNarcolepticOne/pseuds/TheNarcolepticOne
Summary: A child and a haggard old gladiator in the middle of an exchange in a bar.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 3





	Portrait of a Young Man

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tomisweets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomisweets/gifts).



> Written this for a friend's birthday and has been sitting in the back of my drive for almost a full year before I decided to try and poke at it again. Their WOL with my WOL :) 
> 
> Reference: 
> 
> "Fullflower Mead - This aged honey liquor has a faint bouquet of roses...and ochus."

_ “Hey. Are you going to get up anytime soon? I can see your eyes open.” _

The exhausted Miqo’te blinked slowly at the window after hearing the voice, his head firmly resting upon the less than clean bar table. He was seated at an unnecessary height on a wooden bar stool, body hunched over limply against the counter.

From his adjusting gaze, he saw saturated colors of dark purple mixing with red and orange flickering against trees. It indicated that it was six Eorzean (or as a more accurate assessment, either six in the morning or six in the evening). Time had always been an odd factor that never failed to last beyond his level of awareness. It was hardly easy to stay grounded in the present, but the battle for his own sobriety had probably lasted four months if he estimated generously. 

Though, whatever six it was, both were concluded to be absolutely too goddamn early for anyone to be coming to a bar, if any. The colors were already headache inducing., like the one he was developing right now.

_ “Are we awake yet?” _

Giah’a felt his ear twitch. He disliked talking, especially those who liked to ask him too many personal questions. Not that anyone had the mind too, which Giah’a appreciated. Conversations are best deterred by wild inebriation, as he’d like to say.

After a moment of rest, he began to adjust himself to sit up, earning a sigh of relief from the voice on the other side of the counter: the bartender. The tall Roegadyn, “Mari” Marigold, was a familiar sight, which thankfully meant that he hadn’t accidentally passed out next to the Aetheryte again. 

She had done her fair share of hauling his ass during the nights Giah’a got so drunk he was conked out for the night. If he wasn’t actively vomiting or accidentally injuring himself by attempting to walk, she usually left him alone. He liked to think that she cared enough to not let him die, but not enough to let him stop drinking. It was sensible thinking for any business woman.

“There we are. About time you got up.” She grumbled, finally stepping away after giving the man a hard slap on the cheek. “You’ve been officially here about fourteen hours. That’s a new record.”

Giah’a gave a loud and audible groan, reaching around unconsciously on the bar table for the bottle of Fullflower that he had remembered last night was right in front of him on a coaster. 

“Where’s my drink?” he murmured, having enough sense to look at his hand to officially confirm that he had not indeed missed the bottle. 

“Thrown out. You got through the fourth bottle before your stomach decided to try and push it back out where it came in.”

Giah’a wrinkled his nose as his stiff tail began to curl in disgust. 

“Disgust’n.”

“You’re telling  _ me _ . I had to  _ watch _ you pass out and I’ve been trying to wake you for at least three bloody hours. Almost considered going to the Nest to grab the Adders to drag you off my property, you know.”

“...Why didn’t you?” 

The Roe huffed. “Partly because I figure they’d throw you out into the Shroud and let you die from a swarm of hornets.” Her arms crossed as she glared him down with an emerald colored gaze “And as much as that would be wonderful to see, I’d not like it if a regular died on me. Especially if he’s a paying customer.”

“Worst mistake you’ll make today,” he grumbled. 

“You’re welcome too. Now get the hell out of my bar.”

“Oh,” the Miqo’te frowned, head raising now to see if he could catch his attentive gaze. It was difficult to focus on her eyes. “One more. For on the road. Please.”

_ “Seven hells, Gilbert _ , my store needs restocking on alcohol. You can come back tomorrow if you want.”

Giah’a snorted, flipping her off as he went back to crash down on the counter again. The Roe grit her teeth, hand gripping onto the hair on the back of his head to force his gaze back upward. Giah’a only gave a lazy blink in response. 

“Stop being drunk.”

“One more, Mari. Then I’m out.”

Mari rolled her eyes, releasing her hold on his hair as he unceremoniously smacked his forehead on the counter. Giah’a cursed, rubbing the spot where it had hit as he propped his chin up on the table with annoyance and half patience. With a quick hand, she produced a pint of the mead for him, sliding it across the counter. The last he saw of her was the door slam leading into the back rooms.

It took maybe a few moments after fishing the remains of the gil out of his pocket and drinking half the glass in about two gulps before Giah’a noticed the chime at the door. At first, it seemed as if the wind decided to pay him a visit, teasing him due to the fact that it was almost the wintertime, before Giah’a followed his gaze downward. 

A lalafell child, perhaps no more than more than a few years of age, hobbled into the establishment with nothing more than determined look on his face and a stumble in his step. Barely in view, Giah’a squinted to see that a morpho butterfly had made its way into the building; the child fumbling after it.

Giah’a furrowed his brows, suddenly unsure of what to make of this odd entrance when the boy suddenly looked up at him with interest, eyes wide and curious. The Miqo’te frowned further. 

“You can’t be in here, kid. Adults only.”

The child only returned his gaze blankly, pointing at the cold drink dripping in his hand. 

“Juice.”

“Hey,  _ hey. _ ” 

The lala suddenly launched himself at Giah’a, one small hand on the Miqo’s knee and the other outstretched to try and grab the glass as if it were reachable. The boy jumped in frustration, giving a whine. Giah’a had froze in confusion for a few moments, but was promptly brought back into half sobriety with the sudden yank of his tail. 

“Juuuice!”

“This isn’t  _ juice. _ ” Giah’a grumbled back, now starting to feel a rise in annoyance. The scenario was familiar to him, once upon a time ago with another child he had encountered in his travels. It wasn’t something he was willing to remember too well. “And you can’t have any. You didn’t even pay for it.”

Though, despite the rather tame tone from Giah’a, the child began to start a hiccup, giving up the chase immediately due to the response. Horrifically at the same time, the lalafell took a deep breath when tears began to flow down his cheeks.

“Oh  _ no,” _ Giah’a suddenly panicked, scooping up the child in his arms as the wail began. It was the loudest noise that he let get to him, and though he once praised himself to be good at avoiding conversations, he desperately scraped the back of his brain for something both understandable and filtered. Ludovic wasn’t  _ nearly _ as whiny as this.

“Shh, shh. Please. Don’t cry.” He ended up saying, hopping off the barstool and rocking his arms slightly to try and alleviate the boy’s elevated blood pressure. From the sniffles, it appeared to quickly calm him. 

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Giah’a clarified, exhaling with some ounce of exhaustion. Man, he needed the drink. But reaching for it now would only make it accessible to the child in his arms, who he no doubt already anticipated would be spiteful enough to snatch it when he got the chance. 

Kids were sly like that. Giah’a certainly remembered when he himself had similar thoughts. 

“Juice,” The child whimpered, looking at the pint of Fullflower sadly. Giah’a swiftly began for the door, quickly slamming the payment on the counter before heading out. 

_ Garuda’s tits, who in the seven hells did this kid belong to? _

“I’m taking you to that orphanage,” Giah’a announced to the confused boy, who now looked fascinated at seeing the world around him at a higher view than he was familiar with. “They might have juice for you there.”

“Yaaay.” hummed the response. As if instinctively knowing how to position himself, the boy leaned his large head on his shoulder, feeling relieved. Giah’a felt his ears droop out of slight fatigue. 

“What’s your name, kid? The last thing I want is those Adders interrogating me about child abduction.” 

Despite the use of rather large vocabulary, the lalafell responded. 

“Peee...” he tried, prolonging the vowel a while before appearing to stop and think. Giah’a frowned. 

“Yeah, okay. That’s a response that’s  _ definitely _ going to get me arrested,” he groaned. “I’ll just call you... Peter, yeah? Sounds less... weird.”

“Peeeee....” the child cooed and Giah’a, defeated, began in the direction of the orphanage. Oddly enough, the newly christened Peter behaved on the way back, though occasionally began to point at something seemingly random during the short trip. More butterflies, it seemed.

It felt odd to Giah’a, in some aspect, to consider that he was once again holding something as small as a child in his arms. His heart ached at the memory, thinking briefly about the last time he had carried Ludovic so similarly. He was older, sure. But weak enough that he always needed the help when going up the stairs. 

Giah’a clenched his jaw. Peter smiled back at him. 

“Name?”

Giah’a blinked, gaze returning to the child. They were almost there.

“Gilbert.” he lied, feeling the odd name on his lips. An alias to avoid the familiarity from some people’s memories. Peter opened his mouth. 

“Geeeel...bee...”

“Don’t strain yourself.” Giah’a said immediately, letting the child down to interrupt the attempt. The lala didn’t feel much offense despite the abrupt signal. He ran off in the direction of the house in front of him, a small body hobbling again toward the door. 

With a look back, Peter waved at him, giggling as if he were saying goodbye to one of his best friends.

Giah’a forced a smile back, hand raised he watched the child enter the building. A frantic voice followed when the door opened, immediately interrogating the child on where he had gone off to. Giah’a figured to maybe leave then, looking up at the sky. He paused in realization. 

It was six in the morning. Weird. Time used to feel a lot slower, didn’t it?

**Author's Note:**

> _Posted April 25, 2020_


End file.
